Crimson
by MangaAnimeLover
Summary: Jasmine and Jafar had never expected their year-long rivalry to lead them together. But once an offer is made, although with the intention of pushing boundaries, it cannot be taken back. And thus the avalanche starts moving. Jasmine X Jafar [Contains sexual themes, violence, blood etc.]


_**Please read this part. It will explain you some things so that you won't have to ask me yourself!**_

_In this story, several things are different from the movie._

_First of all, magic doesn't exist. Genie, the flying carpet, Jafar being a sorcerer – none of it will be taking place in Crimson._

_Secondly, due to some circumstances, Jasmine and Aladdin never met and fell in love. I have yet not decided if he will be playing a role later on, though._

_And, most importantly: This is not a story for children._

_**Some history:**_

_When Jasmine was 4-5 years old, her mother (pregnant for the second time) fell ill and died. The loss of her caused the Sultan to fall into a lasting depressive state of mind, and although he continued as the ruler of Agrabah, he would mostly be living inside his head, remembering the love of his life and their time together. At his negligence as a parent, a babysitter and some teachers were hired to help him bring up his only daughter. At the same time, Jafar, former royal librarian and apothecary, became the Royal Vizier and sole advisor of the Sultan. With him being a diplomat and harbinger of the royal interest, the Sultan managed to rule his kingdom._

_Growing up in the company of her teachers, babysitter and chamber maids, Jasmine never really bonded with her father, nor did she get to know Jafar until later on. At the age of fifteen, her babysitter became unnecessary, and without her Jasmine suddenly got a lot more time on her hands. This was when she began seeing her father and Jafar around the palace. But even though she got along with everybody, there seemed to be a never-ending conflict between the Royal Vizier and the princess._

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**Chapter 1**

Jasmine had always thought it ridiculous. The size of the dining table, that is. Three people seated at the very end, with just below an arm's reach of space between either of them. Her father at the end, and Jafar and herself seated across from each other, while seven metres of empty marble table stretched along the middle of the dining hall. Not even back then, when her mother had still been alive, did they manage to fill out the table. Only dinner parties allowed the table to fulfill its true purpose; the rest of the evenings the three of them would just sit there in strange silence and eat.

At this very table, when Jasmine was just entering her teens, did the conflict begin. When her mother died, Jasmine was still just a child, and when she soon thereafter was to take her mother's seat at the table, it didn't occur to her that a man was sitting at the very opposite side of the marble top. Only when she entered puberty and started growing taller, she gradually came face to face with the Royal Vizier. And since Jasmine found it highly uncomfortable holding Jafar's gaze during the time which she ate – a thought which the man himself seemed to share – a duel began taking place every evening, where they would look each other in the eyes stubbornly until one of them dropped their gaze and looked away, allowing both of them to eat undisturbed.

Had her father noticed, he did not care about the silent struggle between the two. But Jasmine was not sure he had noticed, as he seemed to be living inside of his own head most of the time – probably remembering the time when he still had his wife by his side, Jasmine had concluded, based on the sad look in his eyes.

When she had been around fifteen or sixteen, her soundless quarrel with Jafar had been taken to another level, as the same fight for dominance began taking place in the hallways whenever the two of them passed each other. At first it had been the usual glare fight when approaching one another, but soon it had evolved into smart remarks and provocative gestures, a sly smirk here and a quirked eyebrow there.

One of Jafar's first verbal moves was to comment on her crimson gown, telling her that the colour really suited her – and her temper. As retaliation, Jasmine had refused to wear anything red since that very day, and sometimes she still felt the small pang of victory whenever she would pass him by in her sky blue clothes, catch his eye, and smirk – knowing that he, too, remembered his first mistake.

As usually, Jasmine was dining wearing blue. She held her head high, a smile on her lips, all while Jafar had let his gaze drop to his own plate after only a few moments. But Jasmine knew it was an too easy victory. Unless the Royal Vizier was feeling ill, he would never give up this quickly. Jasmine suspected great retaliation before too long.

And right she was.

Just as she was taking a bite of meat, Jafar suddenly raised his posture and looked at the Sultan.

"Your Majesty," he began smoothly, and the undertone of danger told Jasmine to stay alarmed. "I was wondering when it is time to find the Princess a suitor. She is coming of age, after all."

A sudden cough caught said princess, who had to fight to keep the neatly chewed food inside.

The Sultan seemed to wake from his trance, and he let his gaze flicker shortly between his two table companions, nodding thoughtfully.

"Eighteen," he mumbled, a sudden smile growing. "Indeed she is."

"But Father," Jasmine interjected heatedly. "In some countries they don't marry before the age of twenty!"

Jafar's lips curled into a victorious smile, knowing his next argument would close the discussion.

"And in some countries girls are married when they turn fourteen," he added, looking back at the Sultan. "And as for your daughter, I would say she is more than ready."

The Sultan quickly picked up Jafar's trail of thoughts.

"Yes. We should have thought of this years ago," he said, convinced. "Jasmine, my dear, we will look into your upcoming marriage next week, where we will send for suitors."

The look on the princess' face was something Jafar allowed himself to remember in every little detail, for him to savour for many years to come. This was one of those victories that would put her into place for some time before she eventually turned cocky again. A few weeks, even. He would be sure to enjoy the silence, perhaps even celebrate it.

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With a groan, Jasmine let herself dump down onto the chaise longue, sprawling across it to let her arms dangle freely over the edge. She closed her eyes to greet the darkness, but all her mind did was replay the scene from dinner. Sighing heavily, she opened her chocolate-coloured eyes again and stared up at the ceiling.

That damned man! How dared he? Her marriage had never really been a topic before, seeing as her father was living in the past and thus forgetting the future. But by the mentioning of her age and the marriage which should have been arranged several years ago, her father had realized that he was neglecting his role as a parent. Once the fuse had been ignited, it was only a matter of time before the bomb would explode, and from that moment on Jasmine would have no power over the upcoming events.

It was not that she hadn't imagined herself with a man before – in every thinkable way. A few books and stories she had heard or read during her teen years served as inspiration to her daydreams. But when it came to the real deal, Jasmine did not really feel the need for a man in her life. As far as she had come to understand, love brought just as much trouble and sorrow as it brought pleasure and happiness. It just did not seem worth it. But then again, during her life she had met only a very limited number of people, so it was difficult for her to imagine that someday she would meet someone who could arouse a very special feeling in her.

As if sensing her loneliness, Rajah got up from the carpet, on which he usually lay, and approached the princess slowly, purring deeply in appreciation as she welcomed him with her caressing hands.

"Oh, Rajah," she sighed with a sad smile. "You truly are the only one I can trust, aren't you?"

Sitting up properly in the chaise longue, Jasmine allowed her pet tiger to rest his head on her thigh as he took place by her side.

"Did you enjoy your dinner? Mine was unnerving as usual. Were you served rabbit again?" she continued in a murmur, expecting no answer whatsoever. The idea of having a conversation with a tiger did not seem strange to her. After all, he was the only one who had always been there for her, accompanied her when she felt lonesome, and he listened to her problems without asking questions.

"Today, Jafar told my father it's about time that I marry. Suitors will soon be coming to the palace and ask for my hand in marriage. And eventually I will have to choose."

She watched Rajah purring blissfully under her touch as if there were nothing in this world that could harm them, but Jasmine knew better. Enemies lured everywhere in this dried out land, and closest of them was the Royal Vizier, who seemed to take great pleasure in pushing her out on too deep water where she could not feel the bottom under her feet anymore. Either learn how to swim, and that fast, or drown.

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With a tired sigh, Jafar drew the heavy curtains away to reveal the setting sun lingering just above the sandy horizon. Usually, the beauty of nature interested him little to none, but whenever the sky held this certain shade of crimson, he found himself pleasantly entranced.

It reminded him of Jasmine. Not of her light turquoise robes, nor her midnight black hair; her temperament, however, was the essence of blood, heat and passion – things with which he liked to associate his favourite colour.

For years, the young princess had disguised her heated temper with clothes of soothing colours to fool everybody into believing her to be as gentle of nature as a princess should be. Having worked as the Royal Vizier for more than a decade, Jafar had watched Jasmine grow and bloom, her temper flourishing just as much as her unmatched beauty. He knew very well what lured beneath her surface.

That, and he remembered once mentioning that he believed red suited her. Strangely enough he didn't recall having seen the princess wearing anything red since that day, and something told him it was no coincidence at all. In fact, everything she did seemed to add up to the sole purpose of getting on his nerves. Luckily, his time as the Royal Vizier had taught him patience. And if there was something the girl could not stand, it was him being calm and collected while she was agitated. Little did she know that he was just as hotblooded as she; one just needed to push the right buttons to set him off. She had managed to do so several times over the years, but not nearly as often as he had caused her to stomp out of the room, nearly breathing fire in pure wrath. And that, although a small detail, was why he saw himself as the victor of their year-long battle.

But there was something about her; a weapon which he could not match with his intelligence. And it annoyed him greatly. He was not supposed to be weak to that kind of thing, especially not when it was _her_. Yet, every time she looked him in the eyes, provocation glinting in those chestnut-coloured orbs, he felt his body respond to the attraction that he felt. It was based entirely on her physical appearance, he had assured himself several times, and as she grew older and neared her eighteenth birthday, Jafar found it harder and harder to keep his eyes away from her curves and the slits of skin she so enjoyed flashing in her usual pants and top. Luckily, the princess knew nothing of this; after all, Jafar was good at controlling himself. He would rather face beheading than reveal to her that she was the image burning in his mind in his hours of need.

It was all coming to an end now, however. Once the princess found a prince to marry, she would be moving out of the palace, out of his life, and out of his mind for good. And although their games, which had humoured him throughout the years, would be discontinued as well, he could not wait to get rid of the temptress sitting on the opposite side of the table every single damned evening.

Realizing that the sun now had disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only a faint hue of red soon to be taken over by black, Jafar closed the curtains, knowing that he would probably never get to see Jasmine wearing red ever again.

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_Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it so far._

_- MAL_


End file.
